Page 97 of Exile and Embrace

I know that she’s been struggling with everything surrounding her family.

We’re pretending to be engaged, but I haven’t been the kind of partner she needs right now.

And I wasn’t lying when I told her it stopped being fake between us weeks ago. We may not be properly engaged yet, but everything else is feeling more real by the day.

She is the only person I want to be with, and I’m doing a damn good job of trying to push her away.

Things are going to change when she gets back. I’m going to make sure she knows exactly what she means to me.

Dawson comes around the corner of the house with another stack of files in his arms. “There you are. Cillian wanted me to give these to you too. He also said that we should get out of here early and have a good time tonight.”

“And why would we be having a good time tonight?” I take the folders from him and drop them beside the others.

“Because I’m tired, and you’re moping around because Ava isn’t home.” He stoops down and grabs all the folders, shutting the laptop as he stands. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Where are we going?” I stand and grab the laptop, following him into the house.

“To a bar downtown. You can sit on a stool and be miserable all you want there.”

“I’m not miserable.”

Dawson scoffs as we head through the house and out to his car. “Sure, you’re not. Drop your shit in the car, we can come back for your motorcycle in the morning.”

I put the laptop in the backseat, and he stacks all the paperwork on top.

As soon as the door shuts, effectively cutting off my workday, the first thing I want to do is go home and see Ava even though she isn’t home right now and won’t be for a few more days.

Dawson cranks the music as we get in the car, the pounding bass rattling the windows.

Trees blur by, becoming more spread out the closer we get to town. By the time we’re downtown, there are fewer trees and far more buildings.

Dawson stops in front of a little bar and parks the car in one of the open spaces.

It’s still too early in the day for most people, and it shows as we walk inside the bar. There is country music playing, the crooning voice blaring through the speakers near the stage.

Old photographs cover the wall above the bar, where a single man sits talking to the bartender.

Dawson makes his way over, sitting down on one of the cracked leather stools.

I take a seat beside him, thinking that he might be right.

If I had gone home, I would be sitting on the couch, drinking a beer, and beating myself up for not going with Ava.

At least this is a social way to drink and try to get out of my head for a little bit. I could use a couple of hours watching drunk people’s chaos.

If I’m lucky, it might be enough to take my mind off Ava for a little while.

The bartender greets us with a bright grin. “Hey, what can I get for you?”

Dawson puts down the drink menu he was perusing. “Whatever craft beer you have on tap.”

I glance at the menu before nodding. “Same.”

The bartender spins to pour the beers from the tap behind her. She hums along with the song playing while she fills the glasses.

She puts the beers in front of us. “If the two of you need anything else, just shout. I’ll be at the other end of the bar with Morty.”

Dawson drums his fingers on the bar in time with the song.

---